Chick Flick: Movie Star
by gurllimerdancer57
Summary: Amanda Cooper had it like she wanted. Popularity, cool BFF, Boyfriend, being rich, a sexy and famous surfer girl and a model career, and the boys attraction. Summer came around, and she's asked for a movie part. In Hawaii. For two years. With only her BFF
1. Summer

_Hey, party tonight? _

A heavy-like paper flopped on my desk, doing exceedingly well of scaring the crap out of the chick next to me; whose half asleep in homeroom/study hall about 10 minutes away from summer. I, on the other hand, was psyched for summer because I was going to be on a swimsuit modeling company hotlist, and I'm gonna teach some early teenagers how to surf. Tiffany, my friend, grinned at me, her tan face exploding with happiness.

_No shit, wifey! Jk! _

I hit it back on her desk, smirking. We said we were married, because we fought like a married couple, we did things like a married couple, and we were best friends ever since the end of fifth grade. We were seniors, who graduated, but had to go to school for extra curricular classes. But hey, we were blonde; we had a VERY good excuse. Ah, screw that, we were stupid and hot! Life was good, and there was no doubt that my boyfriend, Scott Ahlars, was gonna go anywhere. When I was a fifth grader, I switched schools with Tiffany, and I thought he was going somewhere farther, but he was actually going to the same school and he finally asked me out after a year of being hot and popping out and being seen and heard.

Eight minutes.

Summer was so close; I can almost taste the saltwater on my lips. The teacher, looking up from her magazine, glared at some girls passing notes, too, but laughing out loud. Tiffany glanced at me, and sheepishly pointed over to Ronnie Somervell. Ronnie, who was Tiffany's crush, was flexing his muscles from surfing and passing notes to Scott, too.

Seven minutes.

Another note flopped on my desk, but it was doodled with hearts and in fancy italic lettering, it wrote:

Please join Ronnie Somervell and Tiffany Eckert at their wedding on the beach on 6/6/11 from 7:30 until the sun comes up the next day.

I puffed out laughter, and nodded, agreeing with her fantasy. It was only May 18th, and we had a whole summer ahead of us. Had I mentioned summer was so close and I loved it? I think so….

Five minutes.

What to do? Work on my summer journal? No. Pass notes? Rather text. C'mon! What is there to do on the last five minutes of school? I look at Scott. He's looking at…Scott's looking at Caitlyn Kristchen! She's fluffing her hair, doing make-up, and texting. I jab

Scott with my pencil eraser.

"What?" he whispered so low only I could hear.

"Five minutes left, baby!" he grinned at my choice of words, and looked over at me, leaving Caitlyn finished, lonely, and pouting.

Four minutes.

Some jocks in the back corner make farting noises. Some people giggle, others like Parker Van Wumer, the class brainiac and boyfriend of Dania Loghan, for example, are studying for some stupid state championship brain thing. I don't know, their dorks, and they don't do much besides study, snap at people, and do people's homework for thirty bucks every hour. Even though Mrs. William knows they do other people's homework, she doesn't care, just as long as the non-homework people say please, thank you, and pay the workers. But she got prego with triplets and had her babies and got the rest of the year off.

Two minutes.

Tiffany was, now drooling a little, starry-eyed at Ronnie. Um, _okay_?

One minute.

Ms. Erchlute groans, stands up, and says "Students, as you know, school's almost out in about thirty seconds. I would ask you to be appropriate and calm as you leave this school and classroom, and have an excellent, achieving, and studious summer. Read, remember, and focus."

Kids looked around, pleased, and whispered the last ten seconds.

"10…9….8…7…6…5…4…3…2…" everyone grinned, about to enjoy our plan.

"SUMMER!" everyone yelled, and we heard it around the classrooms, the bell, and we started throwing confetti and silly string because us seniors were NEVER coming back. N-E-V-E-R.

"Stay calm! John! No, don't….ah, screw it." Ms. Erchlute said, displeased. She sat back down, and everyone ran down the halls, yelling, laughing, and making a huge mess of paint, silly string, perfume, confetti, water balloons, and papers. Scott scooped me up; we made out in the middle of the halls, getting wet, attention, messy, and obviously shoved.

I looked over to see that Tiffany finally got balls to go over to Ronnie and kiss him, and there they were; wrapped around and kissing.

This was perfect. This was a picture perfect postcard of California summer. Messy, hot, and wild.

Ronnie, Tiffany, Scott and I all walked into the limos seniors rented, and we were headed to the beach house that we made for shop when we got that donation from our classmate who died of heart disease two years ago. We decided to build a house out of our creativity on the beach and make it a party house all year long.

I twined my hands around Scott's, and we drove off to the land of the beach. Together, the world made sense. Together, the world wasn't stupid. Together, we had it all.


	2. Unbelieveable

I woke up, sun streaming in my eyes. I looked around, feverish from last night at the party. We all got wasted (even the dorks) and three couples did it, twelve couples got so close to butt-naked but did wet shirts, seven couples made out with clothes on, and everybody else kissed and messed around.

I jerked up; head pulsing. I looked around my ocean-view room. I had a freakishly long room with a canopy bed in the middle with the walls fitting the shape of it and two nightstands. My bed was right across my big two patio doors, showing off the sun and the beach. My closet area, my make-up area, and my bathroom area on my right, and my cozy "chillin' out" area with a flat screen TV and beanie bags and games on my left. Then, I heard breathing.

Not woman breathing (thank God!) but a deeper, rougher one that reminded me of a guy. An arm suddenly flailed onto my lap, and hoarse laughter erupted the little area. "Good morning, Miss Beach Babe," a familiar voice cooed.

Omigod. Could it be…..?

"DARREN?" I squealed. Oh. My. Flipping. God. I just cheated on my boyfriend with Darren Saemuel! A hot, athletic, and rich Darren Saemuel and quarter back of the football team?

"Hey, don't talk so loud; you might wake your parents or someone," he grinned.

"Holy shit, Darren! You're not supposed to be here! I'm-I'm-I'm with Scott, not you! How'd you even _GET_ here?"

"First off, shit's not holy. Second, we made out and did wet t-shirts and got so high – with Scott – and you told me to go home with you, which, obviously, the drugs got ahead of you."

"Not funny."

"Who's laughing?" He laughed at his own stupid joke.

"Oh God. This is bad, and I mean, SO INCREDIBLY BAD. Did Scott know about you sleeping with me?"

"Um, maybe? I don't know, he was passed out in the back with us in the limo, remember? Right after Mr. Romley told us to shut the fuck up or he's calling the police, then he did call the police and we were gone before anyone else?"

"Omigod – that happened?"

"Hell yeah, and it was awesome!"

"Ohhhhh God. Can you leave? I'm sorry, I'm heading down to the beach in a couple of minutes and my mom will crap her pants if she saw me with you."

"That's fine. Just to let you know, nice rack."

I looked down; embarrassed. I was wearing a see through tank top and short-shorts. I covered myself up, but realized the fact that I'm probably never gonna see him again (gladly) and he'll eventually forget about it all with me. Right?

Once he snuck out, I changed into my baby blue two piece bikini and put a sundress over it and flip-flops. I washed my face, redid my make-up, and fluffed my hair and clomped downstairs; no baking aroma's or no yelling. I got into the kitchen quickly, embarrassed, still, about my little mishap with Darren. I made a promised note in my head and was going to fill its missionaries: make sure Scott does NOT KNOW and is NOT MAD at me. Then, we can live peacefully!

My mom was in the kitchen, reading the mail at the island, and my little brother, Gabe, was playing the PS3 in the game room underneath the staircase, obviously in a very victorious mood. She looked up, surprised to see me, and dashed her angry eyes down. Then she looked back up at my baffled expression, and fixed it to a shy smile.

"Good morning, Amanda." She said.

I shuffled around the kitchen for an English muffin but came up empty-handed and went for an s'mores pop-tart instead. I uncomfortably ducked as if to pick something up, while Mom kept flipping through the mail and stopping every so often to see if I came up.

Mom suddenly got up and went over to the coffee pot, and stared at me like I was an idiot for silently sitting on the floor, eating my breakfast scared as hell that she knew everything that happened last night. She stopped mid-pour and sighed.

"What's the matter with you Amanda? You came stumbling in last night laughing and falling down the steps couple hundred times and in the early morning someone was watching TV on the sixty inch in the family room. I could only guess it was you but you don't watch football unless a guy you like plays in it at school. What's up?" she spat.

"Um…what? 'I' did what? Amber went to a party last night, too!" I said defensively towards myself. My older sister by a year and a half went to a college party last night and hell knows what time she came back, so it could've been her.

"Uh, no. We'll talk about this later. Right now, you need to head out to the beach and practice because tomorrow at three they want to get some shots of you pulling off a new move in the water for your weekly headline journal for _Sports Illustrated_ and _California Beach Pro Surf_."

"Whatever. Hey, is it that one gay guy, Illmonui Van Tre who's photographing for _Pro Surf_?"

"He's _not _gay, Amanda! Illmonui is a great, talented, and professionally active photographer and is a millionaire! Just because he's oddly an Australian and has long hair and is skinny and says he needs to talk to his boyfriend's doesn't give him a chance and credit to be _GAY_!" She huffed.

"Whatever," I grinned, sprinting out heading for my surfboard. "Later, gator!"

Once I got to the beach, I texted Scott. I searched for him, yet I couldn't see crap from my heavy partying from last night. But I did have my designer Gucci sunglasses on, which BTW was _the hottest_ headwear place this month. Except for Hollister and Aeropostale, don't mind that.

_Scottie, babe – im the beach & cant find u! Plz meet me the dock in 5! Luv u!_

When I didn't get a reply in about ten minutes while I was waxing my board, I got super nervous because Darren was here and heading in my direction. I wanted to hide, but it was too flipping late because the S.O.B. won't leave me alone!

"Hey, Amanda!" I yawned and pretended to look at my phone busily.

I nodded glumly. "Have you seen Scott or Tiffany?"

"Uh, Scott, no, but Tiffany just got here but is changing in the girl's bathroom. She looked pretty bummed about something, too."

"Humph." I looked out on the beach, and spotted a guy ripping some waves and doing a deep "coral shell" as the beach called it.

When Tiffany emerged into my view, I about had a heart attack. Her hair was longer in layers, she added chestnut-red highlights to it, and she had huge circles under her eyes. She was also drifting when she walked.

"Holy shit!" Darren said. "What the fuck did Ronnie _do_ to her?"

"Omigod, Tiffany! What happened?" I shrieked, retrieving my friend.

"Um, can….he leave?" she stammer-whispered.

YES!

"See you around, Amanda," he said, smirking. "Tiffany, good luck."

He left, leaving a small track of wet sand with him flying behind him.

"Okay, spill." I urged.

"Um, well, Ronnie and I had a few sodas, then two monsters, and then started doing shots. We did the wet t-shirt and….mine was um, too wet, and so were my pants and remember, our bras were showing but I was stupid enough to let Ronnie take pictures of me, then he led me off to make-out and take nude pics and we….had _a lot_ of sex. Like, _heavy _one-night-stand and I'm-so-wild plus the I'm-never-gonna-see-you-again sex. His friend, someone I didn't know, took videos of us doing it. And then I led him to my house, and we got really wet and wild. I mean, in my pool. Then up in my room, and at about six this morning is when I finally got to sleep. But when I woke up, Ronnie was gone and I was butt-ass naked. He left me a note, already had printed the pictures, and I had a copy and so did he," she broke off, crying. "And he already posted the videos and pictures on the web and texted guys them. I had the worst pain in my life when I woke up. I couldn't find my clothes from last night and my phone was gone. I got up, and threw up for an hour, and then my awesome always-partying mom came in and said I should get a pregnancy test. And….it was…."

She burst out crying. Some people stared at us, and I glared them off. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! I let my crush get a hold of me and he got me pregnant! I'm SO STUPID! He practically raped me!" she gushed.

We spent a while just sitting there, doing nothing. Then, finally, she stopped crying, got up, and went to go over to buy a smoothie. I let it all sink in. Tiffany, a beautiful, professional surfer and model, like me, was pregnant. She got wasted. Her nudity is all over the internet. She lost her virginity. She was a promised educated graduate who made the biggest mistake EVER in less than 24 hours.

I, myself, got up to run over to the water with my surfboard while Tiff waited in the extremely long line for the smoothies. I paddled with my sore arms, and I saw a wave come up. I took a long breath and dove under the water, ready for the wave. When I came up, I gasped for air, and crouched and lifted my legs; balancing the board and myself and doing a 360. I collected speed, and, when I least expected it; Scott came tumbling out of a wave in a mad rush of anger and embarrassment. I went back down in a crouched position and eased on the back of the board, and controlled my stop. I plunked my legs in the cool water and sat on my board near the shore.

"HEY, SCOTT!" I yelled.

He didn't turn, but it was obvious he heard me. He wiped off his face with his hand, unhooked the board's loop on his ankle, and chucked the board at the sandy beach. Camara Daniels, Whitni Parker, and Jenny Fairfield gasped in utter amazement at his anger. Camara giggled and they gawked at his tone muscles.

I rolled my eyes and paddled over to him. I unhooked my board loop, and picked up my surfboard and jogged down the beach; my hair soaked.

"Scott, what's up?" He looked at me, and turned back to the ground.

"I suck shit at surfing." He muttered. "I'm not going to the tournament this weekend."

"Um, why not? Just because some flimsy wave just got a hold of you, and you suddenly hate surfing? How would you like to be Bethani Hamilton and lose your left arm yet kick butt at surfing?" I snapped my mouth shut before I could babble on about how he was overreacting.

"Well, it'd suck. Kinda like I do, and kinda like how you now have a thing for Darren. I know you hung out at the party a lot but that's all I know," he eyed me warily. "Unless there's another thing…?"

I gulped. He possibly knew something too much. "What? NO! Darren is an annoying idiot and is still crushing on me and my sister…" Fuck. I just said my name which would include I would've hung out with him a lot to get those kind of facts, right?

"If that's the case, why the hell did he crawl out of your house this morning suspicious and when he talked to me he mentioned your name at least a hundred times?"

"Um, he must've slept with my sister and because he's a creeper?" Why the heck did Darren mention me to Scott?

"Fine. But if I catch that son of a bitch at your house again or with you; we're done." He warned. He stopped walking, and looked at me. "I know you, Amanda, and you're rich, sneaky, popular, famous, and hot. Any person would do this and you'd cover it. But just don't show it for God sake's."

I squinted in the sunlight and pulled up my bikini top. My blonde hair was becoming really frizzy and was becoming floppy. I set down my board and wrapped my arms around his neck, and we made out for a while until Tiffany called me over.

"What's up?" I asked, embarrassed. I grinned sheepishly over at Scott, while we were walking over holding hands and him carrying a surf board and while I was carrying a surfboard.

I saw Darren lying down in the sand with some chick, but he was looking at me. We locked eyes for a while. She was kissing him at the attempt of looking at me. I struggled to push the thought away, because I didn't want to mess up with Scott. I loved Scott. He was amazing, awesome and sincere. He was my boyfriend and I only liked and cared about him. Not any other sleaze bag.

Didn't I?


	3. Why now?

As the week passed, I felt like Mom knew too much. It was freaky for her to look up when I went upstairs, and watch me come down and tell me how much time I spent in my room. I mean, really, c'mon! I'm an eighteen year old! You were pregnant with Amber when you were seventeen!

But the thing that annoyed me the most was that Scott had girls drooling all over him. I mean, literally drooling over him. Bringing their cheap little customized surfboards over to him and make him sign it like he was famous, pay him a lot of money to tutor him while _I _ knew more than _him_ about surfing.

And Tiffany was too afraid to tell Ronnie she was pregnant. I thought about telling Amber because her friend got in the same mess as her and ended up having her baby. Tiff _wants_ an abortion, but I doubt she's gonna get it when she says she _needs _it or she'll die. Doubt it!

The most important thing was: I have NO clue what to do about it. I mean, yeah, I'm SUPPOSED to be the responsible one now, but mom doesn't care about me and looks like she was to kill Amber and I. My brother got tons of new stuff because of it, and mom's talking dad into another baby!

Between it all, I find myself in dire need of a plan. I don't have the percentage to go to the collages I want to go to, and I definitely am NOT going to a shorter version. Why is this SO hard? I mean, Eliza Fitzpatrick, the smartest teenager in California, started off two years ago stupid, poor, and lazy. Then suddenly, she aces a test, gets more money, gets into advanced classes, her parents getting jobs, her getting into top-notch finals and competitions, the family moving into a mansion, her mom owning very fancy and popular stores, her dad a movie director, and suddenly she's the smartest teenager in three years. She already is in college and she was home schooled for a year because the curriculum was too low and less challenging. But I'm not going to be known as state DORK. E-V-E-R.

I sighed, flopped on my bed, and watched TV. I just kept listening to Jersey Shore and ate fluffy popcorn and sooner or later fell asleep.


	4. Cause I'm a Superstar

**A/N**

*****Thanks for reviewing and for making this a favorite! I'm enjoying writing this story, even though I'm balancing a couple new ones, possibly finishing the two others, and still fitting in enough time to chillax and just read what I've got. I'm getting the book more intertwined into the drama, more hurt, and possibly some new juicy things popping in. Please review to all others & give me your rating 1-10! R&R like always! *****

One day, I woke up and felt like jogging.

I went through to my messy closet, found my jogging sweat-suit and pink Nike sneakers, and put my hair in a high pony-tail. I knew it had to be presentable because possibly publicity would attack me alive. Yep, life of a celebrity.

But then I remembered my photo-shoot at ten-thirty. I would only have an hour and a half to get all the make-up on, hair done, clothes on, showered, getting down to the beach in time before anything else and all that good stuff.

Fine. I'd run around the house up and down the steps and down halls and crap like that. So I started my journey with the grand staircase. I jogged down, and like usual, Mom glared at me, but then she surprisingly grinned. She waved a letter in the air, and sighed. "Oh, you will not believe what you just got,"

"What?" I asked at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, why don't you look for yourself?" I grabbed it out of her hands before she could mock me any more.

It read:

**Dear Amanda Cooper;**

**Greetings, Amanda! We hope you can accept this great opportunity from our movie-making history. Surprise, Surprise! We would like you to be the main star in our movie, "Life Without a Star" about a surfer girl whose parents are killed in a car accident and is lost without them. Then she meets Sean Rossford (Kody Marx) and they become in love. Then time will pass, and they get married and go surfing one day. They don't see a shark, and their attacked. Carmon, the role you'd play, is just bitten in the leg, not much harm, but her husband dies. Then the movie closes with another husband replaced and a child. But we have one "problem". We are located in Honolulu, Hawaii, and you can only bring one person with you, for a year, no in-between trips. Thank you so much for considering or accepting completely. Please mail us before June 10****th****, so we can arrange the details from there with who you're bringing, their little background check, and accept or decline. Thank you, Amanda! **

**-Rox Entertainment Co. **

This. Was. Amazing. I would be a movie star everyone would look up to! I would be so freaking rich! And I'd be…..in the hole. One person? One special, favorite, and I-can't-live-without person? Why?

"Um, mom, this is awesome!" I squealed. But then she stopped short.

"But you're going to decline. You're NOT old enough to do these overrated movies yet without your guardians. You were supposed to quit your other jobs and go to Yale for college, then come home and we'll see what you'd fit in for as a young adult. I'm not letting you do this, Amanda. I know you'd fall head over heels for it, and I guess you needed to learn the discipline lessons now rather than when you're twenty-five. Now, we got the Yale slip, too, two weeks ago, and I already filled it out and got the stamp of your signature, so we'll get the school list done in July, because you'll leave in August. Its six years, and we'll pay for the college for you, but you'd have to get the extras you'd need every year. You get a four day break every two months to come home. You and your sister are going together, too, in the same apartment. So, forget about the movie, and you can send a text to them you declined, at this address," she pointed to the text address. "And you better get ready and shower for your photo-shoot!" she walked off upstairs, grinning.

I groaned. Why did she always ruin it for me? Everything I ever wanted to do, then POOF! It's gone, and I get treated like a baby. I'd be twenty-four when I'd get out of college now! What's next, I can't get married until I'm thirty-five?

So, I did what I was supposed to, and write back to Rox Entertainment.

**To: Rox Entertainment**

**Subject: movie offer**

**hi, amanda txting. Im gonna accept, & i still gotta think who i want w/ me…..thx, I promise 2 txt back in less than a week! :D**

I grinned. I just made it opposite day. For mom, anyway. If she wanted to play hardball, she should say "welcome" to the master.

I finally was showered, slight make-up & perfumed, and acceptable to my photo-shoot in designer brand short-shorts with pre-rips, a white tank-top, black scarf, white flip-flops, and diamond earrings in my three earring holes, and my nose ring. I put on my "love" ring, my plain ring, and my swirly ring. I grabbed my hot pink purse, and headed for my door.

"Mo-om!" I called.

"Down here, Amanda." She said. When I was downstairs, she was wearing a black skirt, white t-shirt, a diamond necklace and earrings, and black flats. Wow.

"Let's go." she said.

When I got to the beach, Illmonui Van Tre grinned. "Ahh, Amanda, baby, I missed you! It seems like you were a high-schooler when I last saw you!"

"And you don't look too bad yourself, mister!" I said. We air hugged, and Mom just stood there acting busy.

My manager, Cayleigh Mascen smiled, and walked over to put an arm over my shoulder while mom walked behind with the make-up artist. I bet she's gonna scold her if she puts too much on me or makes me look really hot, even though Mom never notices because she's always on her phone or arranging something with my manager, photo-shoot guys, or something like that.

The make-up artist sat me down, and first washed my face with some treatments, then started with the eye-brow plucking, then pulled out my nose ring, then put on a face mask. She then worked on my hair, flipping, curling, fluffing, and spraying with shine spray. Then she washed off my face, revealing a beautiful teenager on the next level. She put on the face color, blush, and then worked on my eyes. She switched my contacts to a bright blue, and put on bold black eye-liner. She put on long-lasting water-proof mascara on me, and then a black, silver, and then pink layered eye-shadow on. She put on bright pink lip-gloss on, then put my nose ring back in. She changed my earrings to silver sparkly hoops and diamond earrings to fill the other two and one. She put on a silver heart necklace on, then a longer one with "A" on it, then a shell one with pink and white small shells, then a shark tooth in the middle.

The outfitter then took me back and showed me the swimsuit. It was a white one with pink fireworks design, and a silver hoop in the middle chest to scoop onto the neck. Once she helped me get it on, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was hotter than hot. I was sexy.

I walked out of my little canopy tent, and was blinded by flashing lights of paparazzi, screaming fans, and whistling of guys. Then I saw Scott at the shore, looking like photo-shoot material, too. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tiffany, just standing there in kaprees and a black cami. She smiled and walked over to me.

"Scott might know," she whispered. "And he bribed Illmonui to get some shots with you two together as the new beach "it" couple."

"Oh, God. Anyways, I have something extreme to tell you!" I blinked back a bright light.

"Got that right. I need you really bad." She whimpered. "People are starting to stare at me like they know something dirty on me."

"Well, tell them tough shit and flip them the bird." I smiled for a camera, waved, and blew a kiss.

"It's not like that, though! It's more-" Illmonui cut her off.

"Amanda, we need you!" he said. Scott grinned at me, and was obviously checking me out.

First, Illmonui had me lay on a surfboard, hands behind my head, and turn my head, and legs crossed. Then he had me stand up with the surf board, and lean on it. Then stay up, hand on hip, wind blowing my hair, and a pissed look on my face. When mom wasn't looking he had me do a _very _hot shot. I had my top undone and I had to hold it not showing my boobs, and I was at the shore of the water and pretty good waves would almost knock me off balance and would probably _really_ show my boobs.

After about 300 shots with one suit on, he had Scott come in and we got 100 more. He had us kiss on one, then he had us walking on the shore, holding hands, me drawing a heart in the sand, him carrying me, and all that mushy I'm-in-love stuff.

But not that I didn't like it, 'cause, personally, I loved the me crouching drawing a heart, while he touched my back for "support" when it somehow ran down to my ass. Illmonui finally gave us a break and had people set up for the next round and edit some photos. I would have one more bathing suit before I had to do a commercial for _Rip Tide, _a surfing sponsor for some surfboards and clothes.

Then I'd have to deal with fans and paparazzi, and, worst of all - my mother.

As I was walking back, Tiffany was suddenly behind me. I looked over to her, and was caught off guard. Oh, god. It was the Rox Entertainment Company. And they were coming _my _way.

"Um, Omigod!" I whispered. "Rox Entertainment's here!"

"Yeah, so? You should be super happy!" oh yeah. She doesn't know about the offer.

"Well, they offered me for a movie in Hawaii, for a year, with one person, and mom said no, and she told me to text them I declined, which I didn't, and I said accept but didn't know who to bring; Scott, you, or Amber, and now I guess their gonna ask me about it or something. Help!" I filled her in.

"Ohhhh….so you mean to tell me you're in deep shit?"

"Yep, now make sure they do NOT talk to my mom, k? I love you so super much if it works!"

I went into my changing area, and the outfitter handed me a lime green one with baby blue and white swirls that showed my boobs and ass _a lot_. I went over to the make-up artist and she changed the hot pink layer to lime-green and my lip-gloss to a peachy pink-white.

It was noon, and I was starving, so I went over to my manager to see if I had enough time. "Hey, Cayleigh, do I have enough time to have lunch quick?"

"Oh, yes, you're mom went to go fetch that. So, did you receive the movie offer in the mail? Rox Entertainment called me this morning and said their on their way - and look at you, Amanda! You look like an adult!"

"Thanks. But my mom doesn't like the movie offer and she said no and I sent back yes, so, make sure they don't meet."

Cayleigh's eyebrows shot up. "_Excuse me_?" she said, snappy like.

"Umm…what do you mean?" I asked, worried. I looked over to Tiff for help.

"Your mother said _no _on the best offer EVER? Excuse me, but your mother is a tight bitch. She's telling me all this crap that you can't do because you're too young when you're a graduate and an adult. Oh my God, you are doing the movie, Amanda, and I'm going to confront your mother about this. Then if she still says no, I'm talking to your father; the more reasonable one, when he gets back from Paris." She said, storming off, obviously pissed and over-boiling-ly mad.

"Wow. I never saw that coming did you?" I asked Tiff.

"No, not really," her phone beeped. "Um, the whole time you were doing your photo-shoot, _HE _kept sending me these text messages"-she held up her phone-"And he won't stop - even after I got a new phone, he won't."

I read them, and the more that he sent, the madder I got.

**Ur boobies are all over the internet, baby. Do u wanna show daddy y i put them there? **

**Naughty bitches go 2 hell, angels go to sexy heaven. Which 1 r u?**

And the others were incredibly inappropriate. Some pictures, too, of wet t-shirt and her in her underwear, and a guy with her about to strip her. Sexual harassment, really? You just got her pregnant, embarrassed her, and made her college reject her. What more do you want from her?

"Wait, Tiffany, are you _sure _it was Ronnie? Because that one picture isn't him. Wait, Tiff, that isn't Ronnie because he left at midnight. You left at two. That's not Ronnie, that's someone else." Her face turned extremely pale.

"Oh gosh." She murmured.

I saw mom walk back in with lunch. I smiled at her for some reason, and she smiled back somehow. What happened?

"Okay, I got lettuce salads, pork chops, fruit cups, and bubbly waters. Anything else today and I'll get it."

I couldn't believe mom bought pork chops, even meat, instead. It's usually tofu this, tofu that, but now she's smiley, giving us something more than rich-people crap, and being nice for once.

Somehow, I felt like that's how a superstar lived. Miracles happen, right?

"Oh my gosh, how did she do that?" Tiffany asked.

"I'm a superstar, baby," I grinned. "I'm a superstar."


	5. Heart of Steel

I was sitting in my room after the photo shoot, wondering why Amber didn't show up like she said. I felt like she didn't care after all, but that's when I realized she had her own life, so why would she bother with mine?

But I was wrong. When I was about to go get ready for my date with Scott, I got the worst phone-call of my life.

"Hello? Your number's unfamiliar…." I said, confused.

"Yes, this is Malibu's local hospital, Stanford, and we're calling for Miss Amber Cooper's sister. Are you Amanda?"

"Yes, what happened?" I half screamed immaturely.

"Well….she was in an accident with a semi. It took a sharp turn and smashed her car, with her not even seeing it coming."

"OMIGOD! MOM!" I screamed louder.

"She has both her legs broken, fractured ribs, a severe cut on her forehead and all over her body, and she's in coma. She lost a lot of blood. We're not sure she can live. We need you immediately, and only you, and bring her best friend, your best friend and her boyfriend."

Um, mom?

"Hold on," I ran downstairs, and just noticed I was crying.

"Mom," I sobbed. She turned around from the couch, and stared in shock. "Amber got in an accident, broke her legs, fractured her ribs, she has lots of bad cuts and she's in a coma."

Her face didn't change. "So? It's her fault,"

I had enough now. "Mom, are you SERIOUS? She's your daughter, and the doctor's say she's probably not going to live, and you do nothing and blame it on HER when she was turning and wasn't the cause? Who are you anymore? I'm glad she didn't request you to go. You're losing your only daughters in short seconds and days. Get a life and QUIT RUINING OURS and sabotaging us in what YOU want!"

She didn't listen to me. She just kept grinning and watching TV like nobody's dying.

"Unbelievable. And I AM going for that movie whether you like it or not. I'm taking Amber with me if she stays alive and Tiffany. I'll be gone by Friday."

When I called everyone and filled them in, drove to the hospital. When we got there, it was a blur trying to get to her room. Then when we walked into her room, she wasn't there at all. I thought she'd be dead, but turns out she was in the bathroom. When she came out, she was just fine. No minor injuries, bandages or anything. Just an unfamiliar bump that I've never noticed until now on her stomach.

"Um, what's up?" her best friend, Chaisity asked.

"Ohh, you mean the I'm-not-gonna-live-call, which was a test for mom and for you guys and is she coming?"

"Nope. She was sitting there on the couch laughing and saying that you wouldn't need her anyways."

Her mouth dropped, but she quickly repaired. "Not surprising. But, you wanna know why I'm here? I passed out in Forever 21 and when I got here, they said there was a specific reason."

"Whoa, did you get anything?" Chaisity asked.

"I'm pregnant, and I wanted to be pregnant, too. I'm gonna give up my baby to someone who can't have one. It's on one of my before-I-die lists."

"Okay, so, you just lied to get us over here? Then completely told us something we were unaware of?"

Tiffany cleared her throat, obviously squirming.

"And I needed someone to bring me home." She grinned. "Well, the boys can go bye-bye and…"

I looked over at Scott. He was staring at me with pained eyes. "See ya later."

"Yeah, I guess."

I just hated our relationship now. Words were so little, emotions were hidden, and it all seemed fake. Like we're just two puppets on a string. I thought we'd be invincible and not camera-kissed and messed up. I can't believe I got my hopes up. I had to end it before it gets bad enough where I'm depressed.

"Scott, wait!" I said. I pulled him over. "Can I talk to you?"

"Umm…" he looked at his phone. I pulled him out onto the community terrace.

"Ok, I'm just gonna make this simple. I'm leaving for two years for a movie, and I only get one specialty person which isn't you."

His face fell. "What?"

"Another thing, Darren slept with me at my house. Not on purpose, but we did. I lied to you _a lot _for my stupid self. I'm sorry, well, not intentionally….look, you've been all full of yourself for a long time. Lots of guys would do anything for me, and not use me and go after some girl. I'm trying to be an adult, and I'm starting from the beginning with people and my private life. I'm…breaking up with you."

"What is you're deal?" he yelled. "You don't get it! You just don't get it!"

"Get what? That life sucks and mine's even worse! Don't ever think you know more than me because you're teaching girls the wrong tricks! Their gonna die because of your over-rated guidelines! You should've left MY job to ME, you jackass."

Rain started to pour. I went inside to retrieve the girls and go somewhere besides home or the beach.

"Mall?" I asked, stressed.

"Are you sure? Paparazzi and everything, too, so you'll probably make the owner pissed off."

"Fuck them. We're going to the mall." They looked at me wide-eyed. I heard Scott laugh.

"Well, I guess we'll go, then."


	6. Goodbye & Hello

As Tif and I packed the last of our luggage into the black SUV, we said our good bye's tried not to cry, and listened to my manager. I couldn't believe when I called dad in Canada that he accepted. To think he'd have more power than MOM!

Yeah, how'd I choose over the past few weeks?

Well, since Amber has a little mess to work on, she said she'd come over in the fall for college with (ugh) Tristan, her new boyfriend. Mom accepted that. And since I honestly can't live without Tif, and she would have to still see her mom, she'd stay for the summer, and then go every other month with the assistant my manager got her. Ever since then, she's helped her a lot. Giving her advice, backing her up, helping her with choosy decisions; and somehow it all fell into place after the hospital incident.

"Now, Amanda, please, please, please don't cause trouble. Call me at least once every one to two days, watch the food, boyfriends, money…." She went on and on, but I really didn't listen. I'd get a new boyfriend for all I care every day! It doesn't matter to me; 'cause honestly, my manager wants me to be a head-lined teenager because then she gets more muh-la.

"We better go, Mrs. Cooper." Cayleigh said.

"Oh, yes, you should've left by now." she said, shocked. "You have to be there at eleven, and the plane leaves at noon."

I looked at her. Oh my gosh, this would be the last time I'd see her for a long time (obviously, she'd come to Hawaii and see me to make sure I wasn't knocked up).

A mixed emotioned tear strolled down my face. Luckily, she didn't notice. But sadly, I'd have to go through home-sickness for about a week, then get used to it. I would usually gain about fifteen pounds when I go there, then the homesickness kicks in, then I'd loose about twenty pounds from not being able to eat.

I sighed, and sooner or later, we were in the van, in the back seat while my manager was driving and the assistant was busy with Cayleigh getting the schedules organized and all that.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" Tif squealed.

"I know! Surprisingly, I've been to Hawaii twice and for a total of days of three. Now it's gonna be two years and three days!"

"Yeah, weird right? I bet we'd meet some sexy surfer boys who'll hold a fire rod with their tongue!" Cayleigh looked up at her in surprise/laughter.

"Only if their was no certain age for doing that unless you want a twenty-eight-year-old."

"Oh." A few seconds later, we were bursting out laughing stupidly.

"Omigod, look at that sign!" I pointed to a sign of me at my weeks ago photo-shoot with Scott. "I want to burn that so bad. Well, his half anyway."

"_California's teen IT couple. Adorable! Catch them around the Malibu Beach!" _Tif read, snickering. "If Hawaii has a Malibu beach, anyway. 'Cause we ain't gonna see that there jackass no more! Yeee-haw!" She said, country-accented.

"Tut, tut, cherie on now!"

Once we got into the airport, it was nuts. Many people recognized me and wanted pictures with me. Out of my deep, inner self, I did, but after a while, it's just like, follow me to Hawaii and stalk me for all I care!

Finally, we boarded the plane in the first-class group. When I sat down, I was in shock. I was sitting next to Rihanna! I kept poking Tif next to me, and when she looked, she about crapped her pants.

"Hey, Amanda, right?" she asked.

"Yeah…" I squeaked.

"And you probably know who I am, and I know who your manager is; hey, Cayleigh!" Cayleigh turned to her.

"Oh my god, Rihanna! It's so good to see you! It's been ages!"

"You know her?" I asked.

"_Know_ me? She practically OWNS me! When I got rejected at a company when I wanted to build my music career, she was the one who chewed them out for it. We ended up both having amazing jobs after that, and I'm sure as hell sure she probably still does that out of her job as a manager!"

"Wow. So, what's the occasion to go to Hawaii?"

"Oh, I'm gonna be in a movie called "Life without a Star" just as a singer for one of the scenes for a concert. What about you? Surfing contest?"

"Uh, no, I'm the just about the main star in the same movie."

"Oh, wow, that must be great! I'm staying until August, but you're probably staying for two years, correct? I know _I _should've been star, but, whatever. Right? 'Cause I _am _movie material, blah, blah. But I'm sure they wanted a rookie instead." She snapped, then turned away with pleasure.

Whatever, really, it's the movie business, so I don't care if she's jealous and thinks she even had a shot. Typical drama queened celebs.

"What's the place we're living at?" I asked Cayleigh.

"Oh, it's this great place by the beach - celebrity area - with five master bedrooms, nice big bathrooms with Jacuzzi's in each, a nice glass walled living area with a fire place and flat screen TV, nice big kitchen with a breakfast bar, cozy master closet for all of us, and of course, a wonderful tiki bar out in the big pool area."

Tif and I gawked. Our own master bedrooms with our own bathrooms and the celeb feel? Yeah, I know, I shouldn't be amazed because I live in a house like that in Malibu, but still! No freaky mom, no annoying, snoopy Asian nanny, just me, myself, and obviously my supporters.

"And the guest bedroom will be Amber's when she comes for collage."

I grinned and pulled up the extended foot rest on the seat and fell back into sleep after a long, stressful month, finally relaxed, grinning, and -

My text alert beeped. I groaned and opened my eye-lids to get it from my purse.

_**TEXT ALERT! TEXT ALERT! **_

_**FROM: SCOTT**_

I looked around, wondering if he stalked me. Nope. So I opened the text, feeling like I should be guilty.

_**Im sry. i wish i couldve been there ur takeoff. i was a lame moron. I'll miss u, mandy, im not trying 2 pull a prank. i know u wont accept & but i wish we could get back 2gether. i regret saying those things. 2 b honest, i was cheating on u first. i already have a girlfriend again, but im sry. **_

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, real sincere to say you have a girlfriend in your apology! That makes me feel so much better, Scott!

"Looks like he's just a player," Tiffany said. "I know from my experience" -she pointed at her swelling stomach-"that when he says sorry so much and says he has someone else to haul around he's an obvious player."

I nodded and typed back, _**Screw u. **_

I regretted it, but he hurt me so much. He deserves it. I got back into my comfy position and fell asleep.


	7. Frustrate Me

I stared at myself in the mirror.

Then I looked down at my phone. I couldn't believe what had happened the past hours. I swiped a tissue at my eyes, clearing the dripping make-up. I sighed, and turned around to look at the ocean view; the rolling waves, innocent palm trees, warm sand, whales and dolphins popping up now and then. I sighed, frustrated with everybody.

And you're probably wondering why.

First, when I left for the party, Scott texted me exactly 97 times. I replied to none, frustrated with him as heck. Then, when I got to the party, I was mobbed by people, just being treated like the president without security guards. Then Tiffany freaking flirted with every freaking guy she saw, and said she was my assistant, acting like I was a drama queen.

She'd approach a guy and go, "Hey, I'm Tiffany." They'd look at her, nod, and look away, and then she'd say, "I'm Amanda Cooper's assistant."

Then they'd grin, and go, "Really, I thought I recognized you" or "Hey, babe, what's your name?" or something flirty-like.

Sooner or later she'd be all full of herself and go, "Yeah, she spends eight hours in hair and make-up to be just perfect!"

Then I met up with my co-stars while my best friend or apparent assistant was all high on guys.

I had a few conversations with people, laughed, teased, you know, when I looked over to see the director come two hours late – the Hollywood fashion.

"Hello!" He echoed loudly, greeting people. "As you know, this is the launch of the movie, "Life without a Star"… With our main star, Amanda Cooper!" Everyone looked at me, clapped and gave me encouraging looks. I adjusted my baby blue tube top and silver belt.

I smiled shyly, and the part went on after a few more announcements.

I then moved to my manager, who was talking to Bruce Manaard, the director, in hushed voices.

"How did you think she could figure it out? Texting her back, that sounds way too suspicious! She'd figure out that you are with-"

"Hey guys!" I said all high off the booze I just finished.

"We'll talk later." He muttered.

I looked at Cayleigh in a confused look. She sighed and let the topic slide.

I huffed, stared around the yard, and then fixed my eyes to a familiar person at the door. Only one person had those blondish-brown ruffled hair, blue eyes, tan skin with built muscles, and crooked grin.

And only one person would come begging on their knees for me with a surprise.

And that person was...

Scott.


	8. Who am I?

What the living shit made Scott want to come here? Doesn't he get the fact that I hate him? Or is he trying to keep the dead love story alive, like freaking Romeo but a heck of a lot stupider? Or, what about how he thought we were something while he messed with ME first? I don't think he gets anything at all – I mean, what part of fuck you doesn't he get?

I looked up to the crowd feeling dizzy. In the background all I heard was Britney Spears and laughter, and people running into me. I was so pissed, I could hardly breathe – almost like so fat chick was laying on my chest. I got chills down my spine, and I couldn't stand any longer. I wobbled, and just as I was going to fall, someone had me on my feet again.

"Spencer?" I asked.

"Yes?" He grinned. "I just was gonna head over with Cassandra, but I saw you almost pass out…yeah." I grinned, and looked over at Cassandra, a cast member who was supposed to be my best friend in the movie, and looked back from the evil glare.

"What are you even THINK you're doing helping that tramp, Spence?" she snapped.

My mouth dropped suddenly. For some reason, I felt like I'd been shot. Normally, I'd slap her or embarrass her, but this time I felt so sad.

"Are you that freaking low to get all up and jealous over ME, miss nobody?"

"Ohh, I made her mad! What a slut – you can't even get your people to put your shirt on right."

"Only trying to be like you!" I mocked sarcastically.

I turned sharply, right into –

Scott.

"Scott?"

"Amanda!"

"What the hell made you think you could come here?" I hissed quietly.

"What do you mean? I texted you ninety-seven God damn times! Did you even think to read one? And besides, you KNOW you were upset when we broke up, so this is like Christmas for you!"

"No, it's more like HELL. When I got on that plane, I thought I was a thousand miles away from the thing I hated most. This was supposed to be my new life with people I should be with, instead of an asshole who's so full of himself and some other girl's junk than his own FIANCE."

"FIANCE?" Tiffany cut in.

"Tiffany, I told you I loved him then. I also told you we were gonna get married! But did you listen, NO!"

"So you do love me!" Scott said.

"NO! I HATE you! I have no feelings for you! And YOU, Tiffany, miss bratty liar, I thought we agreed to be ourselves!"

"Lies. When are you going to wake up, Amanda? You're SO full of yourself, slaving us around, trying to be a miss-wanna be. You're unbelievable…."

Scott and Tiffany just talked in blurs. Tears welled up in my eyes, hearing the sting of the words. I couldn't believe I'm who I am anymore. Letting people walk all over me, being treated like a slutty popular pet, and a mistake, everything I'm really not. I hated how some grandparents saw my photo in a store, or saw me, and just scoff and make "tsk" noises with their tongue. Or how guys see me as a walking hot machine with I-swear- to-God-she-has-a-boob-job look. Or how girls glare at me and think of me as their daily dose of gossip or not so popular people look at me as a role model or a goddess (everybody does).

Like that! I even I refer to myself as the best of the best! WHO AM I?

Amanda Cooper sounds more like a smart, pretty, and a babysitter and role model type. Not a rich slut who can surf like no one knew she was there, bring a party up, sneak around, and steal a guy in one little touch, plus be a sexy model.

And I did it again.

I felt really dizzy now, sore, slapped….speechless. Where was I? WHO am I?

And then I remembered a shove, a fall, then…

Those lips. Those hands. That safe feeling you got when you were near it….

That smile. Those eyes. That hair. That voice that you could hear any day…

Those words. That laugh. That little touch that sends a thousand sparks to me….

Only one person does that other than….

Scott.

Again, all I can think about is him. I feel true with him, though, I hate him to shit.

When it all connected again, I immediately slapped him, and left. He cannot do this to me anymore. He treats me like crap, and then comes after me unwelcome. Then he tries to get romantic, but then he goes all I'm so cool, and starts over again.

Why do I always try to be something I'm so not? Who stole me, and where did they take me? Who am I?


	9. How Does He Do It?

**Hey, guys!**

**Thanks SOOOOOO much for the extra support throughout my break, and by November I'm hoping to be at chapter 12 by then. Thanks for all the supporting comments, AGAIN, but I hope if you read my story you are reviewing member or not! This book is so important to me, I hope you have a movement going for it, also. This chapter's gonna be longer than the previous ones, knowing from the reviews (see, I still go on every day and look!) I saw. THANKS, LUV YA BUNCHES! :D**

So, Scott was back. Drama was up, but maybe this was healthy. I mean, I'm doing a movie about drama and…

My script. Perfect distraction. Considering since they said on Friday will be the official get-together with the cast working on the first scene, and for two weeks I'd be working on voice, actions, and the official scene a week later.

So I shuffled through my just-organized bookshelf trying to find the first scene's script. I flipped through the page, until I landed on the first one, my first word.

"_Sometimes, I feel like I could walk on water…like, seagulls stopped when I stood there. Butterflies floated, sprinkles of water splash on me, my hand shredding the perfect curl, me with my risky half-on-off motivations…_

_My mom said that I was born for this, and I hadn't believed her until we finally agreed I should go to North Shore to compete, with bigger competitors. I had always thought it was a death unneeded, but the first smell of fresh wax on boards, sand, and salt water, I had it all. _

_I looked at everyone's boards – either blank or flowery, fiery or tye-dye. But when someone looked at mine, they thought I was nuts. My name, everywhere on it…colors over its base, kind of small for a girl my age and probably looking like I'd never knew what competition was like, but for being twelve, going to North Shore, first major competition, and only half legal, I was a miss nothing. But when they saw that star….that star…..they became much less worried about me, but more on why they top to the star._

_I named that star on my surf board Leighighria – also known as -" _

A sudden knock erupted at my door.

I sniffed, and squeaked, "COME IN!" the door crept open slowly, but then stopped a little. "Tiffany, you better be apologizing."

"Um, I don't think I'm Tiffany…" Immediately, I perked up to Spencer's voice.

He came into view as a prince…which was weird because I had no intention to pay close attention to him at all…..and his smile….lips….

"Amanda?" He asked frantically.

"Mmm?" I kept staring at him.

"Are you sure you're okay? I mean, I guess I could go…" He stammered.

"NOO!" I shouted.

What? Why am I doing this? I never do this, especially since Spencer is NOT my type. Unless Scott got me all crazy over a useless heartbreak that I clearly did not deserve.

"Um, I'm sorry. I'm just a little spazzy and uh, nervous or something…my nerves are hay-wire. I um…are you thirsty?"

"Oh, that's okay. I just came to see if you were hanging in there, since I guess…well, Steve crashed the party and got drunk…he went home with Cassandra…she hasn't texted me or anything…"

"Scott, you mean?"

"Yeah, him."

"Oh…where's Tiffany?"

"Um, Tiffany….? You mean Tiff-_ony_?"

"Tiff-_ony_…who the hell is 'Tiffony'?" I grinded my teeth, getting a feeling Tiffany went way too far.

"Yeah, she's like, Britney Spear's new singing partner, plus Beyoncé, but then she said she was getting her own TV show, TIFFONY, interviewing many celebs…kinda like OPRAH; and it was rumored she was 4 or 5 months pregnant."

"Omigod, really? Was she fucking drunk? First, Spencer, she's not TiffONY, she's TiffANY, my supposed to be best friend, second, she has never met Britney Spears, or anyone else famous, third, she's NOT getting her own show, I AM, and she IS 5 months pregnant. She must've been drunk again….but don't listen to her…"

"Sorry, I guess I didn't know her very well; Cassandra gave me the gossip."

"Hmm…well, we better get to know each other since we have to act married and look like we've had history."

"Yeah."

A couple minutes went by, then headlights shown in the now darkness and moon-lit water. Laughter erupted, and voices came from below. I jumped to look down to see Tiffany for sure; some other caramel and blonde cover girl, and a guy.

Two left, a guy and the girl, and Tiffany walked into the house. I quickly sat back down in my chair.

"Who's here?"

"Tiffany…some guy…some girl."

"Oh. Do you wanna see them instead? I mean, we could always -"

"NO, NO! Please stay!" Omigod. I sound sooo desperate. "Ugh, sorry…I know I sound desperate and everything, it's just a sore spot to me….he ruins my life on a daily note."

"Oh, I get it now. Yep; you just broke up, he got under your nerves, you moved on, he came back, controlled too much of your life, then you got mad, he fought back, now you're here, wishing you were dead, and he's there, wishing he could never die."

"Yep, almost exactly right, sadly."

"Got it. So, don't bring up HIM or HER until able to?"

I laughed a tad…seeing how I wanted to cry and break all the bones in the two bitches' bodies. "Well, not exactly, I mean we CAN talk about them, but I hate gossiping about who was a beotch to me."

"Okay."

I'm guessing their going hot and heavy because I hear the breathing change, them stumble up the steps, rolling and slamming into walls, and opening their door into her room.

"ASSHOLES!" I yelled.

Our eyes darted to the clock. We looked at each other for what seemed like eternity, and then finally looked down.

"Well, I better get a move on."

"Yeah, its 2:47 a.m., so yeah, maybe."

"You are potentially amazing."

"What?"

"I mean, really, I wish we met way before I met Cassandra. I've been dating her for 8 years—ever since she was discovered. I hate her so freaking much. When we go shopping, she spends half a million….on HERSELF. I'm her pet, and sooner or later, she'll dispose me and make rumors about me to make ME the villain. I don't want to sound desperate, either, but you're hot, you're funny, you're not demanding, and we both have problems to work out. I mean, you got discovered by beauty, charm, and surfing, and I got discovered by my acting skills and my looks on a street. I really like you. REALLY like you."

"Oh." I let everything pull in. I was, truly was, speechless.

"Um, this may be too sudden, but do you wanna grab breakfast at the beach tomorrow- er, today? Like, at 8:00 a.m.? Bright-ish and early-ish?"

"Yeah, of-of course!"

"Okay…okay…." He stood their grinning, and I just realized his bodily perfection was already at my door. He opened the door slowly, but turned back around. It all happened like a movie.

He walked up to me. Click. Click.

He cupped his hands on my face. Click Click.

He grinned at me – I grinned back like a princess. Click. Click.

He asked me if he could. Click. Click.

I said yes. Click Click.

And he…..


	10. I Did it Again

He kissed me on the lips. We had a mini make-out, with his warm tongue in my mouth, and his lips on mine.

When he touched me, though, I tingled. Instead of knowing what's happening, I felt new, cleansed. When Scott kissed me, it was a wake-up call, and it just wasn't….new.

Someone's phone vibrated.

We pulled away in shock. I guess I was in shock, because I wanted to cry.

I looked over at his phone.

_**NEW TEXT! NEW TEXT!**_

_**FROM: Cassandra **_

_**MESSAGE: where r u?**_

_**Spence, where the f*** r u? u bettr b here in 5 min or ELSE, u b****. Bettr not b w/ Ms. Ugly wanna be. **_

He looked at me, slightly embarrassed. "Uh, she kind of hates you…"

"Yeah, no shit."

"Look, I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be. I'll see you at eight."

He turned to me, then turned back and walked out.

A tear rolled down my face. I felt like crap. I drank too much, said too much, and hung out with the wrong people way too much. I can't control myself anymore. I feel like a robot, just with way less potential and ability. Spencer's in hell, I'm in hell, and so is Scott and Tiffany…

I thought about Scott. I almost forgot his face. His blue eyes like ice, his cheekbones a little more noticeable than usual, and his peach lips…his tan skin with the fades, and his messy, choppy look just….just…was supposed to be MINE.

Now those lips I kissed, I touched, they touched…..it was all love. Pure love, and I loved it every weekend together. When we went skinny-dipping, partied, celebrated, cuddled, got drunk, it was the attachment to us. It was what I dreamed of…Scott just…he just….wasn't here.

But those lips were now on Tiffany's pregnant body. And not on mine. I didn't have Scott, anymore, but I'm guessing Tiffany did.

I suddenly faded into the deep sleep….the hate-free sleep.

_Deep sleep…._

_BEEEEP-BEEEP! "….we are who we are! We're dancing like we're dumb, dumb, d-d-d-dumb! Our bodies goin' numb, numb, n-n-n-numb! You know we're superstars, we are who we are! DJ turn it up..."_

I bolted alert at the sound of my phone. I looked around at my room. Sunlight shown through the windows and blinded my vision. I turned around to look at the time…8:04 a.m.

I turned back to my phone on my bed, and stared at it for a little bit. I felt like I forgotten something, and I felt like I just fell asleep. But I thought about it for a while. I tried to think up what happened the night before, but it was a pretty big blur. I mean, who was I even with? Mom? Scott? Tiffany? Someone famous? I forgot about it and drifted back to sleep.

Wait. A. Fucking. Minute.

I looked back at the time. It was 8:16 a.m., and I just realized what I forgot.

I grabbed my phone of the way to the bathroom, and multi-tasked a little. I pulled towels out of its shelves, cranked on the shower, undressed, and pulled off the accessories. I looked at my phone, and almost screamed.

It was from Spencer. 27 text messages. From Spencer.

I just stood in the shower, half in half out, texting and somewhat showering.

I read all of them over and over.

_**Hey, I bet you're still sleeping but I'm really excited for the beach. C u 8!**_

_**Um, yeah i know, AGAIN? Well, its 7:00, and since I know u, ur prob up & getting ready as girls do. **_

_**Oh, did I mention I was excited? Well, i am!**_

_**Yeah, it's a lil' chilly this morning, sry, didn't look the weather when planned!**_

_**Did u wanna bring ur bikini…..we may or may not need it ;D**_

_**Umm….well Im already there. Nice day. **_

_**Soo bored. Sry if I bothered ya!**_

_**Umm..either a, ur busy….b, ur phones dead….or c, ur on ur way early. **_

_**Hey, me again. Cant wait 2 c u in 25 min!**_

_**Oh, 4got 2 ask…hows the tiff/scott dealio? **_

_**20 min! cant wait!**_

_**Ur gonna love this, Amanda!**_

_**Hey, baby, bring r cell phone!**_

_**Oh yeah, its not on the full public beach half, its on my end, and ull know where I am. **_

_**K, answer me!**_

_**Aww, a guy just proposed! Someday that shuld b us.**_

_**Ok, 15 min! hope ur coming soon!**_

_**Answer me! Sry, anxious. **_

_**Amazing….u r amazing. Bring ur surf board? Idc…(: **_

_**Hey, 10 min…**_

_**3 u 3**_

_**Ur the best, mandy!**_

_**Amanda, 5 minutes. I hope ur here. **_

_**Uh, Amanda…3 minutes. Can u txt me?**_

_**Where r u? its 8:08!**_

_**Umm…did u want me to get u?**_

_**Look, if u don't text soon…just, plz come…:/**_

I started to cry. He's so nice, and I finally get a good guy again, and I blow it by forgetting. Wow, what a great person! I quickly text him back.

_**I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SO SO SOSOOOOO sry spence! I overslept, i'm just getting out of the shower…I'm sry. I'm so sry. **_

I keep getting ready, putting on a white strapless dress with baby blue swirls and silver flip-flops. I dry my hair, and pop a baby blue and white flower in my hair. I finish my make-up and accessorizing, and run out the door, just barely looking at Scott and Tiffany. I stopped, grabbed some mints, popped up my middle finger and flashed it at them.

I kept running down the beach until I finally spotted a table with flowers. I looked at my phone for the time, and noticed it was 8:57 a.m. I almost screamed into full WTF mode. He wasn't there. There was a slip of paper on the table. I walked over trying not to cry.

I opened it, and started to read it slowly.

_Amanda-_

_I'm sorry I didn't stay that long. I guess I thought you wouldn't come, if you did. So, while I'm writing this, I hope you know I really thought you'd come. I guess I was just stupid to think you'd even talk to me. Don't worry about apologizing. I already got the memo. See you at the set. Don't bother on calling or anything. It's not worth it. _

_-Spencer_

I burst into tears. I felt so horrible. I just fucked up again.

I felt so bad for him. I knew I should've done something. But I guess its too late.

We're too late.


	11. It's All to Me

I treaded back down the beach. It felt like forever, and my whole body was cold. It was now about 9:30, and I had to be at the studio at 11:30 in Honolulu. I looked at my outfit, decided it was okay, and called up Cayleigh.

She picked up at first call.

"Hello? Amanda!" she almost screamed.

"Um, yeah…"

"Where are you?"

"On the beach, almost back to my end."

"You left the HOUSE? Get off the beach, NOW. Are you alone?"

"Yes? What's happening?"

"Paparazzi's coming because someone spotted you, then last night they were with Tiffany and them, so now your room is bugged with cameras. Do not walk into your room. You need to speak to Tiffany immediately. Not only the paparazzi, but your being followed; they want to kidnap you."

I stopped walking. I stared around the scene. "Honestly, no one's here."

"That's what you think. Their professionals."

"I doubt that someone would want to kidnap me…"

I then heard a branch snap, and a coconut tumble out. I saw a black figure…

I tumbled back, then got up, and ran to the beach house. When I got through the French doors, I remembered I forgot my phone, with Cayleigh on the other end.

Shit.

"….I-I I love you like a love song, baby! And I keep hittin' repeat!..." I heard an off-pitch noise erupt from the game room.

I followed the noise, then coming into Tiffany with her shirt off, with her swelling belly starting to show more than ever. She had just short-shorts on, with a bunch of pre-rips; I'm guessing no underwear, super high heels, (which I believe are mine) and a crap load of jewelry and accessories on.

I scanned the whole room – no Scott, a laptop with a webcam, and….a hopelessly confused Tiffany.

"You know, you're making another mistake, right?" I asked.

"Oh, and you haven't?" She asked, slamming the laptop closed, and putting a shirt on.

"I never said that, did I?"

"Well, you sure meant it." She hissed.

"Says Miss Pornography – oh, my boyfriend sabotaged me, got me pregnant, so, I think I should be naked all the time so I can get drunk and hurt my baby and get another one right after."

"Two can play this game, you know. Especially since you just woke up late to a date with a guy that's getting married after his movie, walk around all trampy like, and think you can bring your friend along to Hawaii, expecting it to okay with her."

"Okay, Queen Tiffany, you insisted for you to go. You THREATENED me to go, and you made sure I broke up with Scott to get back at my happy lifestyle, while you sat around a toilet all day vomiting and crying, while I looked hot and unhappy, getting my life taken over. So maybe, just maybe you should look in the mirror, you bitch."

"I'm the bitch? You're pathetic. You didn't even ask about a doctor for me, since it was an accident and you thought I could do this alone. You know what? I don't know the father, and I don't have any support for this kid. I asked to abort, but you insisted I don't, and I come along with you, so you could 'watch over me'. That's dumb, because you are doing the opposite. You just are so full of yourself! I hate you!"

"Same way!" As I was about to turn around and leave upstairs, she screamed, held her stomach, and collapsed.

I had no way of calling the ambulance, because I didn't have my phone, and the home phone didn't work yet, and she lost her phone. So, it was just me, a pregnant teenager, and fate.


	12. Say That You Love Me

So, here I am, in the hospital, in tears, in the birth section. Why? Because Tiffany, I guess, got a drug put in her drink last night. It was a bad thing, too, that affects the womb, which her baby got in her, and she didn't know it, but the baby's heart rate was hay-wire. So the baby was having episodes, while she was becoming sick, and she was getting really stressed, and passed out. So, now she needs to be monitored in the hospital for a month, and she's going to have surgery to get the baby out at 6 months, and then be monitored for four months.

Right now, she's having a special surgery where they put a monitoring chip in the womb, where she will have daily ultrasounds to check the baby. That's all I know.

But how I got her over was amazing. I high-jacked a car, drove to the clinic, and we got flown over to Oahu with paramedics. She was twitching, her eyes open wide, and she's asking where I am. Nobody tells her, because she wouldn't understand.

"Amanda Cooper?" A middle-aged doctor asked.

"Yes, that's me."

"How are you?"

"Um, better I guess."

"You know, if it weren't for you, she'd be dead."

"Really? So how is she?"

"Well, based on all the tests, its confirmed there'll be quite a bit of issues. For one, she's having triplets. Two, she almost lost them. And, for three, she has heart problems, or in other words, she has a hole in her heart, making her vomit more than usual, be addicted to unhealthy habits – especially pregnant women her age – and her children are all attached to each other. I'm also guessing she had sexual intercourse today and yesterday, with no protection."

I gasped. There's way too many things wrong.

"And the reason why she screamed is because she over heated, she got a hangover, hadn't eaten in two days, and the baby's heart beats- making it feel like someone hitting her with a hammer a thousand times."

"So, basically, she'll be in a dangerous state for a while."

"Yes."

"And the kids…?"

"We're asking, since she's not under control of her behaviors, is that she adopts. She's young, sick, and has lots of life left. She needs space."

"But who will they go _to_?"

"We're hoping someone who cannot have children, a responsible couple, perhaps, and maybe, just maybe a foster home, with a parent atmosphere."

"Oh."

"And, while she's in this state, we're wondering if you could go around, asking her family members, you're family members, and contacting someone who can help."

"I get it."

"Good. Hang in there, Amanda."

I nod, and lean against the wall, ashamed of everything that happened today.

And I hear that voice.

"Amanda?"

Scott.

"What?" I hiss.

"I saw the note you left at your place. Um, is she okay?" He asked, ruffling through his messy hair, and sitting down next to me.

"If you say," I glared at him. "Drugs, diseases, and premature kids are okay, then yes."

"Why are you so hostile to me?" he asks, offended.

"Why? Why? WHY? Are you freaking kidding me? You asshole! You put a freaking 'Tingler' in her drink last night trying to get laid, almost KILLING THEM-"

"Wait – them?"

"Yes, TRIPLETS, you moron!" I looked around, seeing if anyone was listening. "And you had fucking sex with her last night, NO condom!"

He grinned, having a mini flash-back. Then blushed, embarrassed that it was noticeable. "So?"

"SOOOOOOO?" I stood up, slapped him across the face and sat back down, way across on the other side of the waiting area. I stared crying.

He looked at me, disappointed.

We sat there for what felt like forever. Then, I felt a strong arm drape across my shoulder, then hug me. I gave up my battle, got up, and sat with him, leaning into him like we're a couple again.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"I'm sorry, too."

"Why, you helped her?"

"No, about us."

He paused. Then said, "I know. I should've never said those things. I wish we were the California Teen 'It' Couple again."

"Yeah…those were the days…" I looked into his eyes. "I…" I said what's on my mind, mumbling, lost in his blue eyes.

He cupped his hands on my face, leaned in, whispered, "I love you," and kissed me, with lots of tongue.

I loved this kiss. So. Much. I felt like I was in heaven.

I wrapped my hands in his hair, sitting on his lap, making-out. He stuck his hands in my shirt, and I grabbed his wrists.

"No."

"No?"

"Handi-cap bathroom, NOW."

I got up, lead him to the bathroom, and we locked it, diving into each other, him against the wall. I tugged off his shirt, and let it fall to the floor. He lifted up mine, and I jumped up onto him.

We rolled so I was to the wall. He undid my bra, letting that fall.

He took off his basketball shorts.

I undid my shorts.

We looked at each other, remembering those days.

"Remember me." I whispered, and we indulged in each other.

I hope he remembers me; until the world ends.


	13. Situation Central

Scott and I held hands as we walked out of the bathroom.

We walked back to the waiting room, laughing. I saw his watch, and almost screamed.

11:02.

"Omigosh, Scott, we HAVE GOT TO GO! I need to be at the studio in 28 minutes!"

"Let's move, then!"

We ran outside the revolving doors, and ran to a Chevy Impala, opening the doors, diving in, and fumbling for the keys in my purse. Yes, this is the vehicle he brought. Not some fancy sports car. But a Chevy Impala…

Right when we pulled out of the parking lot, we hit traffic. So far, we have 24 minutes left. It takes about five to get into security, 5 to get to the studio sections, and before that, it takes forever to find a parking spot.

We waited for two more minutes, before the cars in front of us resumed motion. I sat there thinking through my lines, and I forgot where I was. I thought about Hawaii. I thought about my time in California, my relationships, my family, some friends, and even photo-shoots. I thought about my future dream family with three girls and two boys…our dream house, my hot husband, how much money we had, my baby girls' recitals, my sons' tractor toys; all these beautiful things I could have after marriage. Then I thought about my grandchildren, my husband and I sitting on the porch swing talking about our memories…but the funny thing was; it wasn't Scott there, it wasn't some business man, or…Darren, (wherever _he_ was), but it was Spencer.

I thought about Spencer and I's mishap, and almost cried with the pain. But that wasn't it…I thought about how we could've been something greater than anyone else. He's a good guy – he wouldn't cheat on me, he listens, laughs at my jokes, relates to me, and talks about his hopes and dreams.

I wanted _that_, not _that_ – the guy driving me around – but Spencer.

"AMANDA!" Scott shouted.

I jolted alert, looking at him, then the time, running out as fast as I could. I didn't say anything to him, which made me feel guilty inside. I had 13 minutes left.

"Amanda Cooper – Life Without a Star!" I stammered to the security guard. I pulled out my ID, then my showcase slip. He paper-punched it (I know, cheesy, right? I mean, for movie people? Well, at least he has two ways of proof I'm Amanda Cooper) and opened the doors to the studio hallways.

The guard said, "Amanda Cooper, in the building," I loved that. It sounded so professional.

I looked at the time – 9 minutes left.

I forgot what number he said to me, but I found the wipe-board with Life Without a Star on it. I kept walking until I got to my room with a star and Amanda Cooper written on it. Another security guard said into his radio, "Amanda Cooper in the room,"

I walked into the little area with make-up on it. I went through all my make-up & hair, had conversations with the artists, went through wardrobe, and finished eating.

My manager smiled at me and said, "Show Time."

"We need Amanda, Spencer, Cassandra, and Kody on set. Places everybody!"

Cassandra glared at me. Spencer didn't say anything to me, and Kody was looking into a mirror, asking himself if he looks okay.

"Okay, please don't mess up more than 30 times, people! Ready? I don't care! Scene eight, ACTION!"

"I don't know, Leah. I guess I'm just done with dating for now…or forever. You know? I mean, last night, at the Oahu Bar, I guess I thought I'd be done, I met a guy, he's nowhere to be seen, and, God, I have a hangover!" I hid my relief at my correct line.

"Well, I know! You should find the guy and get to know him. I mean, you guys had a CONNECTION! That's kinda rare at a bar."

"No, it isn't. It's popular."

"It's better than . That place is a scam. _Everybody_ meets at a bar, gets drunk, then in the morning eats at a café!"

"Unless their having a great life with Daddy's money."

"Yeah, sure, sure, that's true. Still can't believe that you're not going paranoid trying to find him."

"Well, believe it."

"He was a score, though!"

"He was married!"

"Fine. You wanna die alone? See if I care!"

"No, it's just that I want to find a great guy for once. Like, here! A nice café, where nobody's drunk and ramble off whatever they feel like saying."

"Yeah right, because there's noo gay guys or faggets here, too!"

The camera then moves over to view the guy's. The assistant director motions us to mouth like we're talking.

"Dude…that girl was hot!" Spencer said.

"I know! Especially since you got laid! Okay, HOW DOES THAT HEP ME?"

"Sean, calm down. Look at the big picture – you're a bachelor! No more wedding preps or annoying daily noon calls! Jennifer was not your type, anyways, so don't freak out like a little girl…that turns the ladies away."

"Jason, help me!"

"Okay, I'm gonna fix this with a little chemistry…"

"Really? That doesn't make me feel better! You never graduated from high-school!"

"Aw, now that's rude. Anyways, look at those two chicks over there."

The camera moved back to us.

"Hey, Carmon, look at those guys. Like them?"

"Yeah, the one that's muscular with the dorky glasses that remind me of that one guy from Losers is mine."

The camera moves back to them.

"I call the hot tanner blonde chick with the tramp stamp."

"Nah, dude, that's mine!" I blushed a little, because 'that hot tanner blonde chick with the tramp stamp' is me.

The camera moves to us.

"Didn't we see them last night at the bar, like, five barstools down?"

"I don't care, their hot." Cassandra/Leah said.

The camera turned back to them.

"Let's move."

They got up, and sat in the two empty seats in between Cassandra and I. They asked me all the questions. The script told them to flirt, and this is when Cassandra couldn't help it but mess up.

The two guys put their arms around me, and fought about how hot I was.

"Leah, help me out!"

She slipped a note under the table, to make help me out with what to say, but instead, it had 'You bitch. I know you talked and was gonna go skinny-dipping with Spencer, then did it with Scott.'

But, to my relief, the camera picked it up, and the director yelled, "CUT!"

He stepped down from his chair, and said, "Ladies, please don't fight on set! Cassandra, take a look in the mirror, and visit the therapist tonight."

I grinned.

"That's alright, people! Take 5!"

I still felt horrible.

Spencer looked at me with pain in his eyes. "Wow, you're sure on the roll there, Amanda."

"Spencer, look, I'm sorry about this morning! I overslept! Then Tiffany and I fought then she passed out and is in serious condition in the hospital, and I got emotional, and Scott was there and he played me, and I couldn't help it!"

"Yes. You could. You just don't have that backbone anymore."

"You don't know me, Spencer! I've been through a lot!"

"It doesn't matter, anymore. You just don't get it, okay."

"What, what don't I get?"

"Doesn't matter!"

"SPENCER! Don't you walk away from me!"

"Watch me!"

"SPENCER!" I started to cry, then realized I shouldn't. He wasn't worth it, anyways.

I walked over to my manager, put on a happier face.

"Hey, Cayleigh, I just wanted to ask you something quick."

"Yes?"

"Why did you call me this morning and freak me out, then act like nothing, now?"

"Oh, it was an actor's test. Since this is your first movie, we have to test you."

"Oh, okay. Well, I don't have my phone anymore, thanks to you."

"Your welcome! Besides, I sent out Lillian to go get you a new one. It should be already like your old one in about a day."

"Sarcasm, and thanks a bunch."

The rest of my days went as usual, stopping by the hospital, filming scenes, surfing, photo-shoots, hang-outs at clubs and bars, and as the usual celebrity days go. Go to bed late, wake up early.

But one weird thing is – is that I kept having dreams about Spencer and I, along with all of our little children and that. Those never stopped. He never spoke to me, while Scott was getting up my radar – to kick his sorry ass away – and to welcome Spencer back. I cried every night, and thought about him every day.

He was never going to get away from my reach. Not even if he tried.

**Author's Note**

**Hey, guys! This was a longer chapter, and I'm still pretty busy day in and out. But, thanks for the viewers! You make this story worth it! Hope you had a Merry Christmas and a happy welcoming into 2012! I'll be uploading a lot more now days! (Well, with the baby coming along, college & a wedding to plan, I'll fit this dream come true! (: )**

**LUV, **

**girllimerdancer57**


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